


Sixteen Years

by PadawanBrittany (PadawanRyan)



Category: Tokio Hotel
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-28
Updated: 2009-08-28
Packaged: 2017-10-25 20:07:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/274245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PadawanRyan/pseuds/PadawanBrittany
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The band dismembered in late 2010, but met up every year to catch up. For sixteen years, as they would meet, everyone indulged in speaking about their personal lives...except Gustav. What is he hiding?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sixteen Years

Every single year since the band broke up, they would meet on the anniversary of the day they last saw each other, have lunch, and catch up. There were no hard feelings, the boys were just growing up, and had other aspirations within life, other things they wanted to do before they would die. It had been after the Humanoid tour that the boys spoke to their manager, and decided that they would rather not continue the band anymore. Of course, tears were shed, but in the end, everyone was basically happy.

“Bill! Oh wow, you look wonderful!”

Bill was still the most well-known, of course. He had gone on to become a model, and even sixteen years later, at the age of thirty-seven, he was still drop-dead gorgeous. Bill had taken up residence in France, as one of his favourite things was waking up, looking out the window, and gazing upon the Eiffel Tower in his half-conscious state. It made his world seem like a dream, and it was magical to him. Of course, along the way, he’d settled down with a girl, and had a six year old daughter named Giselle Leona Simone Kaulitz.

“Tom, your changes never cease to amaze me!”

Tom had moved off to England, where he worked as a representative for multiple bands. He was less a manager, and more of that person who just called in to make sure everything was going alright, but he worked for a music company and was always signing new acts. Every Christmas, he still saw his brother and parents, but not often enough. Tom, as well, had settled down with a lovely girl, and they had an eight year old daughter, Malorie Vala Kaulitz, and a four year old son, Derik Vilhelm Kaulitz.

“Georg, is that you? You’ve let your hair grow again!”

Georg, not too surprisingly, had decided to become a photographer after the band dismembered. He wasn’t a Hollywood photographer, and didn’t often photograph celebrities at all, but rather stuck to scenic shots. He remained in Germany, but was constantly travelling all over Europe, trying to capture the most beautiful moments in his camera. What shocked everyone was that Georg had yet to settle down, and only had one brief girlfriend since everyone departed. Years back, he’d shockingly cut his hair off.

“Gustav! Mein Gott, Gustav, look at you!”

Gustav had gone the farthest of the band, and moved off to the United States. At first it seemed like he was distancing himself, and even as the band met every year, he didn’t say much about himself. Eventually he got a job as a music producer, and although he wasn’t entirely fond of the Disney acts he often mixed tracks for, he was pleased with his job after a long time of trying to find something. He had once mentioned to his friends that he had a son, but never really mentioned the boy’s name, age, or mother.

“Wow, I can’t believe we’re all here again.”

“Bill, we meet here every year.”

“Ja, but it still amazes me that we’re all still friends!”

“Are you on happy pills again?”

“Again? I never was! What else do you need to be happy than life?”

Tom shook his head as he took a seat at the small restaurant in Madgeburg, where they met every single year, on the eighth of November. It had been the last place they had been together as a band, and would be the one place they all returned to each year. Gustav took a seat beside Tom, while Georg sat on Tom’s other side, and Bill squeezed himself quite dramatically between the two, facing opposite his brother. Everyone had to laugh, Bil hadn’t changed very much in the sixteen years they were apart.

“So,” Georg began, “How are the kids?”

“Wonderful! Oh, Giselle is becoming just like her father!”

“Someone call the cops, we don’t need two of them!”

Bill laughed before turning to Tom, “And how about your two troublemakers?”

“Mally is no troublemaker, I assure you.”

“And Derik?”

“He’s already getting dates in nursery school!”

“How about you Gustav? Don’t you have a son?”

That was the question that Gustav absolutely hated. Not that they questioned that he was a father, but the fact that every year, they insisted on bringing it up. He really didn’t enjoy bringing up his personal life, even if it was the closest people he’d ever known. Of course he had a soon, he’d had a son for fifteen years, but the guys should have realized that he didn’t really like to talk about it. Everyone assumed there was a bad relationship somewhere, and if they every vocalized it, they would be half right.

“Ja, Bryon and I are actually here for a couple weeks right now.”

“Look Tomi, we finally got a name out of him!”

“Why are you here for so long?”

“My sister is getting married, and she insisted on having me here. I wasn’t about to leave Bry alone.”

Everyone nodded, and that was the last of the subject. They knew Gustav wouldn’t talk for very long about anything else than his job, and nobody wanted to piss off the ex-drummer. As every year, Georg raised an eyebrow at his friend, silently asking for more information, and as usual, he received no reply as Gustav looked away. Georg was planning something different, though. This year, he planned to investigate, and made it his goal to find out everything that Gustav had been hiding from them.

.

.

“Bryon, could you fucking stop?!”

Gustav hated raising his voice at his son, and he hated cursing at or in front of his son, but sometimes he could barely stop himself. At fifteen years old, Bryon had become extremely rebellious in a sense, and it was tiring for Gustav, hence why he didn’t plan to leave him alone in America. The boy was always disobeying his father, playing his guitar extremely loud, and starting fights. Sometimes, though, Gustav had the inkling that this rebellious streak came from the influence of Bryon’s boyfriend.

“Stop what, dad? What do you want me to fucking do?”

“I said you could bring the guitar to play a bit, not deafen the entire hotel!”

“I’m not deafening anyone! I can’t believe you used to be a drummer when you can’t stand music!”

“I can stand music Bryon, just not when it’s at such a loud volume!”

“I don’t want to be here. I want to be at home, getting my brains fucked out.”

That was one thing about Bryon, he never held back, and was basically open with everything he was feeling. Of course, there were a ton of things he never told his father, but when he was angry, he had a tendency of blurting things out. He was only fifteen and dating a nineteen year old boy, and thus, had gotten into drinking and sex much earlier than Gustav had hoped. Sighing, the thirty-eight year old father had no idea what to do anymore, and it was one of those times he wished he wasn’t alone in this.

“Bryon, do not use language like that.”

“You do!”

“I’m an adult. It’s different.”

“You know what, dad? Fuck this, I’m out of here!”

As the teen stalked toward, Gustav yelled out, “Bryon Terrell Georg Schäfer, get your ass back here!” but with no avail.

.

.

“Stupid dad, who the fuck does he think he is?”

As Bryon stalked out of the hotel, mumbling angrily to himself, his shoulder length brown hair blowing in the wind, he didn’t happen to see the older man sitting across the street, watching. Georg knew that what he was doing was technically called stalking, but he didn’t care. He wanted to know everything he could about Gustav, and when he saw the teenage boy walking down the front steps of the hotel, he got straight to his feet. Perhaps the kid knew about the ex-drummer who was staying there.

“Excuse me! Hey, ja, you, kid. Are you staying here?”

“Who the fuck are you?”

There were no further questions. Georg knew instantly that the kid had to be Bryon, since he had an American accent. As well, when he looked carefully at the boy, he recognized Gustav’s brown eyes, in the all too familiar face that he just couldn’t place. He noticed upon further inspection that the boy looked very little like Gustav, all except the eyes, but he couldn’t pinpoint the familiarity of the boy’s looks. Shaking his head, he decided to stick to his plan, or as much of it as he could.

“Look, you look a little distressed, what’s going on?”

“You’re an adult, you wouldn’t understand.”

“Oh ja? Try me.”

“My dad’s being so fucking insane! He treats me like I’m a little kid! He doesn’t like my music, he doesn’t like my boyfriend, I just can’t…urghh!”

Georg then became very confused. That didn’t sound like Gustav at all. He had the thought that perhaps there was more behind the whole thing than he knew, but at the same time, he was wondering what had changed Gustav so much. Looking at the boy, he didn’t look much older than fifteen or sixteen years old, which would mean that Gustav had been thrust into parenthood quite early. Either way, Georg suddenly found himself obligated to talk more to the boy, find out more about him rather than just his father.

“Hey, I’m a photographer, and I’m going down to this nearby river to take some pictures. Want to come? It might take your mind off things.”

“How do I know you’re not some murderer or rapist?”

“If I was going to kill you or rape you, why would I do it in broad daylight, when anyone can find me?”

“Touché. Alright, I’ll come with you.”

.

.

“What? Nein, nein, this can’t be happening!”

Gustav groaned as he watched out the window of the hotel room, seeing his son walking down the street with the ex-bassist. His initial thought was to run out there and go after them, but he knew that he’d have to explain himself if he did. Instead, he watched as the two walked away, deep in conversation. It was amazing how much the teenager looked like the older man, and seeing then walking side by side, Gustav noticed it more than he ever had. His only hope was that nobody else did.

.

.

“So you used to be a musician?”

The ex-bassist nodded, trying to tell the teenager as much as he could without giving away too much. If he wanted to get the kid’s trust, he couldn’t let him know that he’d ever known Gustav. They were already at the river, and Bryon sat behind in the grass as Georg walked around, crouching in different positions, shooting at many different angles. The fifteen year old could tell instantly how important these pictures were to the older man, as if he needed them to remember his life, in some sense.

“Ja, I played bass in a band. Nothing too huge, but we were known for a while.”

“Wow, I wish that could happen for me.”

“What’s stopping you?”

“Everything. My dad, my boyfriend…Ronnie wouldn’t like very much if I became famous and took off, leaving him behind.”

“But it’s your dream.”

“Sometimes, you have to sacrifice your dream and live in the reality of the situation.”

Georg nodded, not thinking deeply into the words. It was suddenly, as the November sun shone over the river, that the words echoed in his mind. It was when the band had spoken about possibly ending, that he had last heard those words. Gustav had told the group that he needed to stop, that he needed to get away, and when Tom had asked why, those were the words Gustav gave. Nobody understood what Gustav had meant, or what the reality of the situation was, but they all agreed it was time to move on.

“Such wise words for a teenager.”

“My dad says it all the time.”

“He sounds like a pretty smart guy.”

“I guess. I don’t know, he’s not that smart, in my opinion. What person gives up the life of fame and doing what you love, just because you foolishly got pregnant?”

“Well, sometimes…wait, what?”

“Yeah, my dad got pregnant, and here I am. I’m an accident, but you know what? I don’t fucking care.”

He almost dropped his camera, he was so surprised to hear that. Gustav was pregnant? But Gustav was never gay, was he? It was when Georg realized that sometimes he and Gustav fooled around that he paled. Turning around, he looked at the boy again, and then it hit him. The familiarity of the boy that he noticed was his own self, his own look. He struggled to come up with some words then, without sounding too obvious, but it was a difficult task. After all, it wasn’t everyday he found out he was a father.

“What about your other father?”

“I was never told who he was. Although, personally, I think my dad was way in love with him.”

“Why do you say that?”

“He never dated anyone, never got married, and he’s always reminiscing, it’s frightening.”

Part of Georg wanted to laugh at the previous statement, but another part of him wanted to freak out. Gustav was in love with him? If he had yet to move on and find someone else, did he still love Georg? It was then that Georg also realized, he had failed at trying to move on. He was never sure of what he felt for Gustav, but now that he thought about it, he might damn well love him. It would certainly explain why he never felt right with his girlfriend years back, and why their relationship didn’t last.

“Know what, kid? I think you’ve been gone too long. Let’s get you back.”

.

.

“Oh Gott, where the fuck is he? What the Hell is going on?”

It had been at least two hours since Bryon had stormed out, in this unfamiliar city, and ran into Georg. Gustav wasn’t worried that he was in danger, but he was wondering what was going on between him and the ex-bassist, wondering if perhaps he knew the truth. No doubt Georg would have realized it, which scared Gustav from his head to his feet. He had been pacing the hotel room for those two hours, and even considered calling his friend, but he didn’t have the guts. Gustav was so relieved yet worried when he heard the knock on the door.

“I’ll be right there!”

Gustav attempted to calm himself as he went for the door, but froze into place when he saw who stood there. He recognized the look of discomfort on his son’s face, as he knew Bryon wanted anything than to be back there. His eyes glanced quickly from his son to the man with his son, though, and just from looking into Georg’s eyes, he could tell that he knew. There was no anger in his eyes, no confusing, no disappointment. Gustav could barely place the look, it seemed like something he hadn’t seen for a long time.

“Bryon, go to your room. Play your guitar or something, right now I don’t care.”

The fifteen year old nodded, and just walked past his father, toward his bedroom in the large hotel room. As soon as the boy was gone, Georg grabbed Gustav’s shirt, and pulled him close. Before Gustav had the chance to say anything, Georg’s lips were on him, hungrily begging for entrance. The ex-drummer couldn’t resist, and responded to the kiss passionately, as he’d been hoping for it for sixteen years. When the two pulled apart, they couldn’t stop staring t each other, as if it was some dream soon ending.

“Gustav…”

“Georg…”

“Why?”

“I didn’t think…”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

They hadn’t said much, and although they had blurted out their feelings without thinking of the consequences, it had to be the most meaningful conversation of either of their lives. Neither felt like anything else mattered, except being together, until they heard a loud distorted guitar squeal. As Gustav was used to the loud sound, he just groaned, but Georg winced from the pain his ear was withstanding. It wasn’t as if the playing was bad, it was just far too loud for him to handle.

“Where did he learn that?”

“Fuck if I know.”

“He’s mine…”

It wasn’t a question, nor was it a statement. It was more of Georg coming to an understanding, realizing that the fifteen year old boy was definitely his. All Gustav could do was nod, before leaning in and recapturing the elder’s lips. This kiss was more soft, and chaste, but it didn’t lack feeling or passion. When he moved back, he couldn’t help it, but pulled the brunette close and just hugged him. Georg hugged back, loving the feeling of being in the blonde’s arms again, just relaxing in spot as they held each other.

“It's been sixteen years, where do we go from here?”

“Stay with me, Geo? Tonight? Please?”

“If we have it my way, Gus, then I’ll stay with you far longer than tonight.”

“How long?”

“Forever.”


End file.
